


Do-Over

by SleepySeaLily



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Overwatch - Freeform, Overwatch Recall, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Overwatch 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepySeaLily/pseuds/SleepySeaLily
Summary: Winston calls those who have responded to the Overwatch recall together to discuss the next steps.This is an alternate take on the group reassembling and considers the OW2 announcement cinematic noncanonical.
Kudos: 3





	Do-Over

“The truth is, I, ah, I’m a scientist. I don’t have experience with public relations, press releases, anything other than being paraded around in public as the Big Smart Gorilla, really,” Winston’s voice, as meek as his manner of speech was, still filled the room. He had a presence that he wasn’t comfortable with, and everyone’s eyes were on him- he’d initiated the recall, he’d organized this meeting, and the next step was still up to him. “I’m not a leader and, well. I was hoping we could talk today about what our next step would be, together. As a group. As… Overwatch.”

He almost hesitated to say it. The idea that he was bringing people together again, that they could live up to the shadow of the original organization looming overhead, it was daunting. To him most of all, having lived in the almost-abandoned facilities, having spent so much time with Athena worrying about if they could- or should- try to help the world again. But everything was getting worse. People were suffering. Criminal organizations were consolidating power and had become more bold than ever before. Overwatch wasn’t just needed again, it was  _ necessary _ . And here they were, around the meeting table, like in the old days. Sort of.

There was a bit of a silence in the room, as Winston glanced around the table, the faces of everyone there saying that they were all hoping someone else would take the initiative to speak up first. Most of the faces were familiar to Winston- his friend Tracer, their old field medic Angela ‘Mercy’ Ziegler, the cyborg Genji who had once been young and brash but was now older and more focused, more controlled, grown from a recruit into a warrior. Tracer had gone through some of the same changes, her personality still peppy and upbeat, but a weariness creeping in through her years of working solo. Brigitte was a new combatant but not a new face, having been young and enthusiastic about helping with armor and technology within Overwatch in years past. Still young and enthusiastic, but now capable too.

Then lastly, the two old men Torbjorn and Reinhardt, who both avoided Winston’s gaze- they were fighters, leaders on the battlefield, expecting to meet their end out there eventually. Neither of them were  _ organizational _ leaders, they didn’t have the patience for it. But they knew as veterans in combat, people would look to them, so they chose to ignore it in return. They were good men, but they were stubborn and reckless, and they liked being that way. Winston understood their reluctance to lead. They were no Jack Morrison. But then again, nobody was anymore.

“Sorry I’m late, folks,” a voice broke the silence, a slight southern twinge to it, a tone of amusement carried by the words. “You wouldn’t believe how easy it is to get lost around here.” The sound of spurs echoed with each step as Jesse McCree entered the room, swagger in his motions, a playful confidence in his voice. McCree chuckled as he eyed the group sitting around the table, “Damn, did I step into the wrong year? Gettin’ a nostalgia rush just seein’ y’all.”

“It is good to see you too, Jesse,” Genji smiled just a bit, the sound of it in his voice even with the synthetic tone behind it. “Will you be joining us?”

McCree’s cyborg hand tugged the brim of his hat down a little bit, over his eyes. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it, but I think I can sit in just this once.” He moved to an empty seat next to Genji, kicking his feet up on the meeting table, leaning his chair back just a little more than it looked like he should. “That said, still waitin’ on payment for that last job, big guy.” He tipped the hat brim up, eyes focused on Winston. The gorilla smiled nervously. Angela scoffed, offering Winston a judgemental glance.

“So this is everyone? This is all we have left?” the doctor looked towards Winston, but the question was clearly to the room as a whole. “A strike team at best. A group that can do good work, but certainly not what the world would expect if told that Overwatch is returning,” her accent made her words cut more harshly than she may have intended, prompting Reinhardt to slam his hand down on the table, Tracer jumping at the sudden noise of it.

“Whether we have two or two hundred, we can still stand for what Overwatch once stood for. We can still stand for hope and justice, to be the beacon of light the people need us to be. There is a world hurting just outside our window, and none of us would be here if we were content with sitting by and watching innocents continue to suffer.” He stood as he delivered his speech, bringing a grin to Tracer and Brigitte’s faces as they got a glimpse of the old Reinhardt bubbling to the surface. The man was older now, but he still loomed over the rest of them, still inspired confidence, still felt like a  _ hero _ . Not like Torbjorn, who sat next to him, scowling, preoccupied with what looked like an omnic arm, multitool clutched in his fingers as he tightened and loosened screws and joints.

“It’s not like we’re the  _ only _ people willing to take a stand. Overwatch never was. Even working out there on my own, there were other people who were doing good. And other… things.” Torbjorn waved the arm about slightly, as if to emphasize his point.

“Oh, uh.  _ Things _ huh?” Winston rubbed his chin in thought. “I was looking into that, a bit. Like with Echo, and uh. Genji’s teachter.”

“Master Zenyatta. A wonderful  _ spiritual _ ally,” Genji nodded, “but a pacifist. He would support us in our endeavour, I am confident in that. And on a side note, I would prefer if we do not refer to our Omnic siblings as ‘things’. They are people. As much as any of us are.” Torbjorn glanced off to the side in response to Genji’s request, his feelings towards Omnics still churning in his head.

“Yeah, I definitely agree! The Omnic war was a long time ago now, some people on both sides still carry grudges but we’re better than that. Overwatch is better than that. I think if there’s any qualified Omnics, we should try and bring them onboard!” Tracer spoke up for the first time since the meeting had started, her tone positive and chipper. “Like Orisa! She’s been doing great work in Numbani, I worked with her when Winston asked me to do some investigation about the Doomfist theft. She’s a little inexperienced, but so was I when I started out!”

“And man-made.” Torbjorn chimed in again. “I’d trust that more than something from one of those Omnic factories. Efi Oladele built her out of surplus parts, the sprout’s a tech genius at an early age. I’d say we see about bringing Orisa onboard and Efi in a support capacity. We had some good luck with those, back in the day.” He smirked over at Brigitte, who grinned in return. Reinhardt, seeing the shared glance, couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s true! Brigitte and Torbjorn are both great hands to have on and off the field, but some more help with my armor would be fantastic. It’s been too long since I’ve had a new set of eyes on the schematics! And I could use a few upgrades. I’m not quite as limber as I used to be.” Reinhardt chuckled, a faux nervousness to it.

Winston brought up a hololight keyboard, taking notes, images of Orisa and Efi flickering into visibility around the table. “Well, let’s start a list. This is uh, this is a good step. Orisa seems like a promising candidate for recruitment, and Efi is… a bit young, but, someone we’ll want to, uh, talk to. About Orisa, and about what kind of future she’s picturing for herself and her talents.” The images flickered, changing to a Tibetan landscape, pictures of Genji and his master, Zenyatta. “Someone who can provide a, uh, moral compass for us would be good, too. Even if he doesn’t fight. He can…” Winston is quiet for a brief moment. “He can keep us honest and upfront about what we do.” The majority of faces around the table take a more serious expression, with Genji and McCree both showing some measure of guilt in their posture.

“I’ve got another, then,” Torbjorn broke the brief silence. “It-  _ he’s _ waiting outside, actually. And if we’re really concerned about putting our best face forward about working with Omnics, there’s not going to be a better recruit… after some training and maybe ah, a few little adjustments.” Winston tapped away at the light-based keyboard, the images around the table changing to a live security feed of the facility’s exterior. An omnic was crouched in the grass near one of the facility’s walls, missing one arm, gently prodding at a flower before getting distracted by a bumblebee wandering by, the bot lumbering off curiously after it.

“Does he have a name, Mister Lindholm?” Mercy was the one to ask, a bemused expression on her face. She knew how much Torbjorn had hated Omnics both during and after the war, yet here he was, fixing one’s arm? Recommending it join Overwatch? Time had changed everyone in unexpected ways.

“Not really. But he’s been responding to Bastion. He’s one of the old wartime units, but he doesn’t act like one. Don’t know why, yet. Not sure if you can really put a why to it, honestly. He’s a curious one, but he’s a nature lover and no stranger to fighting for survival. We’ve been traveling together for a bit now, actually. It’s been… interesting.” Torbjorn almost seemed reluctant to admit that it was  _ interesting _ , even though it was clear he’d become fond of the omnic.

“Well, he’s uh. On the list too, now. Though it sounds like we’re going to be able to take care of that one pretty quickly,” Winston chuckled as he continued to type. “Personally, there’s a few candidates I’ve been keeping an eye on since, uh. Well. Since everything shut down. I didn’t have a lot else to do… so.” With some rapid gestures, Winston brought up an array of images, splaying around the table. Pictures, video, and notable information about dozens of people around the world, people who had been fighting for a better future- who had picked up where Overwatch had left off so long ago.

Tracer grinned, a smile creeping across her face, as she leaned forward in her seat. New heroes. There were so many she’d never met, and a few she had. All of them were doing good, but could be doing  _ more _ . She liked that. She liked all of this. This was what this group was supposed to be like. This was Overwatch. “Well, where do we start?”


End file.
